


Breathe, just breathe

by bluebells



Series: Optional Paz/Din continuity [6]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate title: bitch can't even swim, Artwork by Severeni, Can Mando's float?, Drowning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by the season two trailer, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: Not like this.Ad’ika. Ni trikari.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Series: Optional Paz/Din continuity [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980532
Comments: 26
Kudos: 318





	Breathe, just breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Danudane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danudane/gifts).



> This only exists because Dani likes to speculate on Mandalorian water buoyancy. 
> 
> CW: Graphic descriptions of near-death experiences by drowning; stay safe, fam.
> 
> UPDATE 15/10/2020: Now with artwork by Severeni at the end! Sev, you're amazing!!

One consolation about the water is he can’t taste the blood in his mouth. 

Din is well accustomed to the flavour -- tongue bitten, lip split, head throbbing with the bloody drip of a broken nose down his throat. It’s a well-learned cue: slow down, rally, take a breath.

He doesn’t have the luxury of slowing right now.

The water is at his torso. When the trawler started sinking, the storage space flooded in seconds. The ocean of Mon Calamari is freezing. Din grits his teeth, limbs struggling to comply when he kicks off the wall, and he’s all but magnetised to the floor by the soaked weight of his armour.

Think. Think, think.

His heart thuds painfully hard and fast. He glares at his boots somewhere in the dark water beneath him. Leaping atop the storage crates seems like a good idea to get higher, but then the ship lists, the crates slide, and he topples back into the water, arms flailing. 

Where’s the rigging? This is a fishing trawler. By some mercy, he wasn’t thrown in the hold with the day’s haul of wriggling sea creatures, but this storage space should have had nets and anchor points to tie down their cargo. The nets have been removed. Din’s fingers are so numb, they will barely curl into the small indents of the walls but he finds purchase. Shaking from the cold and effort of bracing against his sodden weight, he begins to climb.

Slow. Breathe.

He’s almost grateful the kid isn’t here. He’s not sure he could stay calm feeling the little one’s shivering weight pressed to his neck as the water rose around them. 

It’s a mistake thinking about the kid. Din’s heart kicks remembering those dark eyes widen with fear, his weak whimper of distress as Din crumbled to the deck. Beskar could hold up against most direct blows, but beneath it, he was still flesh and bone.

Din has to get back to him.

His gloves slip on the bars of the grated roof, struggling to find a hold. Beyond, the sky is a callous smear of grey, and still the ocean rises.

Somewhere above deck, another explosion shakes the ship. The vibrations tremble through the hull, shuddering under his feet. 

The water is at his neck.

He’s surprised they let him keep his armour when they threw him down here. Now he’s almost regretting it as the Mandalorian steel traps the worst of the water’s chill and anchors him while the water rises higher and higher. His arms are growing heavy. He can barely move his legs.

The ship lurches again and something crashes into his side, knocking the breath from him. He tumbles into the black water, and his eyes spring wide as it surges into his helmet. His side is throbbing, he’s slipping, he’s--

Saltwater fills his nose. The back of his eyes burn. The cough is involuntary and his whole chest heaves at his first gulp of water. Everything in his body protests, screaming to expel it even as he flails for a handhold, and sinks. He can’t breathe. He can’t stop the next cough and his mind races, a white panic as he gurgles, punching out for the steel grate. 

The ocean rushes down his throat, filling his gut, searing into his lungs, and he convulses as his body screams _wrong, wrong, out-- get it out!_

The water encloses him from within and without, an icy murk, all-consuming. He sinks.

_Ad’ika._

Not like this. 

_Ad’ika. Ni trikari._

Not like--

The world turns and the ship with it. He is thrown, tumbled, and for long, long moments he is suspended between being and unbecoming-- and the next thing he realises, a weight is thumping on his back, a bar presses into his gut and a voice is shouting into his ear. 

“Breathe! Breathe!” 

Din’s body curls on the deck of the sinking ship. His hands claw at the rusted steel, his chest heaves and he throws up, saltwater burning his throat as it spills out almost faster than he can bear it. It hurts as much as it did going down. That weight thumps between his shoulders again like a hammer on the anvil of his cuirass. The bar on his stomach tugs hard, forcing up another retch of sea water, and he realises that’s not a bar but an arm across his front.

His helmet is a gleaming blur strewn on the deck ahead of him. It’s hard to see through the tears in his eyes.

His gasps are wet and he gags, coughing, but at last he tastes air -- the thick, icy bite of Mon Calamari’s winds sharp on his bare skin. Breathing is painful, but he’s _breathing_. 

Something cold, hard and rounded presses to the nape of his neck. The arm around his front keeps him from collapsing when he crumples from exhaustion. Someone is curled over him. Din’s mind isn’t working yet but he registers strength in the arms that turn him over. A dark shape coalesces into the form of a Mandalorian visor and Din’s heart almost breaks with relief.

Later, he’ll wonder _how_ but in the moment, Din can only hold on to those broad pauldrons as Paz lowers his helm to rest his visor against Din’s forehead. Strong hands clutch him close and safe, braced beneath his head and back.

Panting, hair plastered across his face, Din sags into Paz's embrace, eyes sliding shut. His chest is heavy as though his lungs won’t fully expand. That marred, blue helm is cold against his brow but he clambers to drag this chill closer, hands shaking. Paz is murmuring something he can't understand, whispered like an oath, rushed and fervent.

Din has never felt fear like that before. The helplessness. The certainty of what was inevitable. Paz hides Din's sob against his shoulder and thick, gentle arms tighten around him in a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re lucky that beskar reflects the light,” Paz mutters, voice rough and shaken, no wait-- that’s the ship trembling around them, and then Paz is dragging him to his feet, tight against his side. The water rushes over the deck up to their heels.

Din sways when Paz leans down to retrieve his helmet.

“The kid,” he tries to protest as the helmet descends over his eyes again, wet and numbing cold against his temples. The ones who took the child deserted this ship before leaving Din to die on it.

“I know.” Paz gathers him into his arms and the jet pack ignites against his back. “But you first.”

Din’s stomach swoops in a brief moment of vertigo as Paz lifts them up, and they leave the ocean to claim the sinking wreck.

**Artwork by Severeni** : [[Original post]](https://twitter.com/SevereniTM/status/1316498140275585024?s=20) My eternal adoration for Sev who blew this commission out of the water and punched my heart in the process. Follow them for more on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SevereniTM) and [Tumblr](https://severeni.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> A few narrative leaps are made in this story based on the trailer for Mando season two:  
> \- the scene of Din struggling in the water occurs on the ship we see earlier in the trailer  
> \- the ship is a fishing trawler  
> \- the trawler is on Mon Calamari  
> \- in this instance, at least, Mandos don't have breathing appartus to survive submersion in-built to their helmets
> 
>  **Mando'a translations:**  
>  Ad’ika. Ni trikari. / My dear child. I'm sorry.
> 
> Come chat with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bellsybuilds) or [Tumblr](https://bellsybuilds.tumblr.com).
> 
>  **Permissions:** You do not need to ask for permission to make translations, podfics, fanfic or fanart for any of my stories-- I do ask that you link back to my original work and let me know because I would LOVE to share what you've created.


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